


Gentle

by uzumagay



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uzumagay/pseuds/uzumagay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gentle isn't a word anyone would use to describe Mickey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gentle

**Author's Note:**

> this is set the night of 4x11 when mickey and ian went home

_ Gentle _ isn’t a word anyone would use to describe you. 

It’s not a fitting word for you, with crude tattoos across your knuckles and seemingly constant cuts or bruises on your face. You don’t look gentle. You don’t act gentle.

You don’t know  _ how _ to be gentle. Dear old Dad was never a gentle fucking guy, and when it came to your mom, meth addicts were never very gentle. You don’t know what the fuck it is that makes a person gentle, but you don’t have it. 

You can see it though. You saw it in Mandy, when she was younger, in the way she held kittens sometimes, with a grip that looked like she was holding the most expensive shit in the fucking world. She’d let them sleep on her stomach sometimes, fingers tracing over their ears softly. The gentleness in her seemed to fade though as she got older, when her skirts got shorter and water bottles were filled with vodka more often than not. 

You didn’t know how to bring that gentleness back, because you don’t have a fucking clue on how to be like that. For a while you guessed it was something everyone grew the fuck out of, that hardness was how you survived, and it made sense. Tenderness has no fucking place when you have to feed yourself.

You had to fucking meet Ian Gallagher. 

After the shit with Mandy saying he raped her, he was over a lot. The two held fucking hands, smiling at each other like idiots, and Mandy looked like she used to when you got a chance to see her. She looked like she was eleven again, dreaming about a boy who would love and save her, who would look at her like she were the stars or some shit like that. 

And Gallagher looked back at her like that. He had her arm around her sometimes, her head on his shoulder, and it looked fucking normal. You never saw someone touch someone like that except on movies. 

It’s fucking weird though, because he’s even gentle with you. You’ve beaten the shit out of him, your  _ father _ beat the shit out of him, you guys both just got your asses handed to you from him and his buddies. 

Still though, he’s fucking soft with you. His ribs are probably broken, but he sits you down on the toilet seat and cleans your face, not letting you just scrub off the blood like he did. You’re not bleeding anymore, but god, there’s so much fucking blood. He gets it off your mouth, apologizing quietly when you flinch. You don’t feel like a pussy for flinching, for once. You feel calm, calm with him. The house around you is quiet, you’re alone, and Dad-of-the-Year fucked off to prison again. It’s just you two. 

He cleans off your forehead, softly too, which is a fucking blessing. He goes slow and lets you wince, lets you make the fucking faces you want and doesn’t say anything about it. 

Ian doesn’t look you in the eye when he’s doing it, but when he’s finished, he stares at you. 

“I’m proud of you,” he says quietly, kissing your forehead, and you feel warm. Fuck, your face feels warm, too warm, and your eyes prick. You just nod at him, because there’s nothing to fucking say to that, because there’s no reason to be proud.

Ian never fucking stops though, and he stands up, holding out his hand for you. You take it, letting him guide you to your room, because you can’t think. Nothing about this seems real, not the fact that you told the entirety of the Alibi that you’re gay, not the fact that Ian is slowly getting you undressed in your bedroom. He undresses himself too, and you’re both standing in boxers when Ian wraps his arms around you. You do the same, because no one is looking, you’re alone, and it’s okay. It’s just you and Ian, and it’s okay, you think, even though your eyes are pricking with tears again. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Mick,” he whispers to you, a hand coming up to rest in your hair, and fuck, it feels nice, feels warm and comforting and like a home you’ve never had before Ian. Ian is your home, fuck this house, fuck Chicago, fuck any place that isn’t with him, because this is where you need to always be. 

You’re crying, and just as you realize, Ian holds you tighter. He rubs your back, kisses your shoulder and head, and it makes you fucking cry more. You’re shaking, and you’re a goddamn bitch, you know it.

“Let’s lay down,” he says, so softly, and you follow, because you can’t not follow now. You don’t let go of him as you lay down, because you can’t stop the tears. You’re still shaking, but he’s holding you still, and it feels good. He puts the blanket over both of you, and it feels good.

“You did so good,” Ian tells you, and kisses the top of your head like he did outside of the Alibi, except he stays there. Each time he says something, a new bout of fucking tears come through you, but Ian doesn’t seem to mind. He just holds you, and you want to stop the crying somehow, but he hasn’t told you to stop and that’s probably the only thing that will make it stop.

“I..” he says, and you listen even though you’re crying, and you can’t fucking hear that now. Ian telling you he loved you would fuck you, it would be too much to handle and the thought of it right now gets you tense.

“I’m happy I’m here with you,” Ian tells you after a second of thinking, and you don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he was going to tell you he loved you and you unconsciously stopped him, or the fact that you wanted to hear it despite the fact it would fuck everything up. You’re tired though, and you can’t speak, only listen to Ian as he strokes your hair and hums to you as you relax against him slowly.

Eventually, you reach out and touch his side, your hand soft on his ribs and then moving to his back, running up his spine, because the least the kid can get after doing that shit for you is being held as well. You try to be soft, not wanting to hurt his ribs as you went over to his back, hand running up slowly. 

It’s such an Ian move, one that he’s used on you before, and it surprises you. It’s fucking gentle, soft and so much like Ian it’s weird. Ian’s still petting your hair, but you can feel his smile on your shoulder, and maybe Ian’s teaching you to be gentle.

You don’t think you can ever be like him, like the guy Mandy described for herself like Ian is (because fuck, sometimes when he looks at you, he has this dopey look, and sometimes he makes you want to better yourself, sometimes he makes you better without you even knowing), but maybe you can do this. Maybe you can kiss him more instead of hitting, maybe you can whisper instead of yell. 

Maybe Ian can teach you how to be gentle.

**Author's Note:**

> please comment i love attention and talk to me @ uzumagay.tumblr.com


End file.
